My Seasonal Heart

Fiery leaflets, a crimson rain,
drench the earth in hues of flame.
Its heated touch dyes the ground,
one lands softly in my tangled crown.
I lift my gaze, it twirls, it wanes—
a fleeting balm for my aching veins.

Fingers stiff, my hands burn blue,
clawing ‘gainst the biting dew.
The whispering wind grants no hold,
hollow, it flees, my cries untold.
Snowflakes drift like ash to ground,
pale green shots, a fleeting sound.

Blossoms crack from earth’s embrace,
a tender touch, a fleeting grace.
The sun smiles soft, yet cold and shy,
I reach for warmth that passes by.
My heart, a bud, unsure to bloom,
caresses hope within its fragile tomb.

Summer’s blaze curls ’round my brow,
hot breath on my skin, a blazing vow.
It burns more than pleasant warmth.
I curl into shade, my aching heart,
touches now send me skittering,
for the soft touch, now sharp, and breaking.

Only to wilt beneath my stare of death.
I watch them fade, as all the rest.
A bloom once bright, now dimmed and torn,
fading as I, in silence, mourn.
Even the seasons’ tenderest gifts,
fail to heal the scars of time that drifts.